


Presents

by Misedejem



Category: Bravely Default (Video Game) & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen, bravely second spoilers for up to the end of chapter 3, but only very vague
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-08-08 08:19:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7750291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misedejem/pseuds/Misedejem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Pope was their enemy, and she stood for everything the asterisk holders of the Glanz Empire despised about the world. Even so, they could not bear to see her suffering under their watch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Presents

**Author's Note:**

> I've read loads of cute headcanons about Agnès interacting with Revenant while she's held captive in the Skyhold, and a couple of scenes (namely the one where she loses her ball of yarn, and the references to Nikolai asking Angelo to bake for her) made me wonder how the others would do the same.

Though the Pope was held captive for so very long, she never felt truly like a prisoner. There was something about her captors that couldn’t bear to see her suffer. Every day, she would be presented with gifts to sate her boredom that would naturally come with being trapped inside a tiny room for days upon days.

There were books - thick, old tomes filled with spells she could not use, and stories of heroes and monsters and mages. More books than she could ever hope to read. They were so worn and loved that she could tell the person who delivered them to her must have read them many times. One day, feeling overwhelmed by her options, she dared ask which of the stories the mysterious gift giver would recommend the most. After a long pause, a quiet voice replied: ‘the story of the hero, Cu Chulainn.’ Then one day, the books stopped coming with no warning, and she never saw the pale hand with painted nails that would slip them to her again.

There was someone who would always slip her bright balls of yarn, and knitting needles to go with them. The yarn was pulled at, and smelled slightly of fish, but it was a warm gesture that she embraced whole heartedly. After a week of this, the Pope exchanged the scarf she had completed with the yarn she was delivered. She received a tiny ‘thank mew’ in return. Then, much as the books had stopped coming, as the Skyhold moved away from the arid deserts of Harena, so did the yarn balls. Her heart began to sink, as she feared the worst.

Perhaps the most peculiar gifts of all were the cakes. The most delightful little things, obviously prepared by somebody who truly cared about their work, each adorned with tiny little details that seemed almost unnecessary considering only the Pope would see them. Often, she would hear the voice of the man delivering them raised in aggravation outside her door, and it became obvious that he was being made to sacrifice his own creative liberties for her enjoyment. Part of her couldn’t help but feel slightly guilty, especially as the treats became more and more to her taste. She found herself missing them greatly - for she could not return to them like her other gifts - when these suddenly stopped coming as well.

The gifts she enjoyed most of all were the little conversations she would have with who seemed to be a young child outside her room. He would talk at length with her about nothing in particular, filling the hours with fun stories and the exaggerated delights of a child’s imagination. He started asking her to play games with him as the Skyhold drew away from Eternia. He told her that he used to play games with a very good friend of his, but that friend couldn’t play anymore. When she questioned him further, his reply shook her to the core.

“He was murdered.”

She was disturbed one evening by a peculiar scratching at her door. When the guard came to slide her dinner to her, the tray was followed by a large, ginger cat, who immediately set itself down on the woollen jumper she was knitting Tiz and refused to move. Perplexed, she brought her new feline roommate’s existence to the attention of the boy, whose voice began to quaver when she mentioned it.

“The kitty must miss the King too…”

The King, it so happened, was another cat who had recently passed away. The boy did not mention how, but he spoke of how he was able to cuddle this cat in particular with great fondness, his words sounding unusually mature for one so young. Memories of Olivia’s death filled her dreams that night, as her new feline friend nestled into her.

One night, as they were flying over the flowered fields of Florem, she was awoken by a sharp rapping coming from the far end of her room. As she fumbled for a light, she heard a quiet voice from behind the heavily fortified door.

“I heard a scary noise. Can you tell me a story?”

As she searched for a child friendly story in the books she had been given, the boy began to babble at length about how, when he was scared, a girl he called his ‘big sis’ would always tell him stories that the noisy ghosts in the Skyhold would stop to listen to as well. His father would always want to hurt the ghosts, because that was his job, but this girl would never dream of such a thing. The girl had gone away to Eisenberg to fight, and she’d been killed in battle. Agnès was glad he could not see the tears well in her eyes as it dawned on her that he’d come to her of all people, especially when she realised later that perhaps the boy didn’t have anybody left he could go to.

Then, for two days, there was nothing. The boy stopped visiting, and she hoped, hoped with all her heart, that he had not been killed like all the people before him who had shown her kindness, despite being her enemy. It was the third day, as the crest of the Temple of Water came in sight, that she heard his voice again.

“Is Yew Geneolgia your friend?”

She was shocked speechless. How did this boy know of Yew? Had he heard her speaking with him?

“He is.”

“Why did your friend kill my daddy?”

“ _What?”_

“Yew Geneologia and his friends killed all my friends! They killed my daddy! I’ll kill them! I’ll KILL THEM!”

Agnès did not know what to do. She did not know what to say. She could just barely comprehend the basic facts, that the people dedicating themselves to her rescue had probably killed all the people who made sure she was well cared for rather than making her suffer. It was the duchy all over again, and though she did not know their faces, and though they were by no means good people, given the damage they caused, she felt a pain in her chest as she thought about how their lives had all been taken.

Then a strange feeling that she vaguely felt she’d experienced before came over her, and she knew no more.

 

 

 

 


End file.
